This worthy and wonderful man, whose career well merits the serious attention and study of all who look to raising themselves in the world by the intellect and capacity with which Providence has blessed them, and rendering important services to humanity, was born on the 1st of April—a somewhat inauspicious day, it must be confessed—in the year 1786, at Castle Hedingham, in Essex, where his father, the High Sheriff of the County, was then residing; though his usual scat was Earl's Colne, in the same shire. The elder Buxton was a man of a gentle and kindly disposition, given to field-sports, and highly popular in the neighbourhood, distinguished for his hospitality and for—what was still of more consequence—attention to relieving the miseries and necessities of the poor and needy. He died at Earl's Colne, in 1792, leaving his widow with three sons and two daughters. This lady, a woman of energy, intellect, strong faculties, strong affections, and apparently a little eccentric, belonged to the Society of Friends; but her husband, having been a member of the Church, and her sons baptized accordingly, she, not being of the strictest sect, wisely and meritoriously refrained from exerting her influence as mother and guardian to bring them over to her persuasion. She strove to inspire them with a profound regard for the Holy Scriptures, and to implant in them a high standard of morality; hut exhibited no particular anxiety to see them distinguished by broad-brimmed hats and buttonless coats.

It was said of Buxton that he never was a child— that he was a man in petticoats. At all events, he was uncommonly vigorous in his early days, and showed a bold and determined character. On one occasion, being requested to convey a message to a pig-driver who had passed along the road, he set off in pursuit, and, though one of his shoes was swamped and lost in the mud, continued to track the man by the footmarks of the grunting drove through intricate, miry lanes, for nearly three miles, and never halted till he had overtaken him in the market-town of Coggeshall and delivered his message. At the age of four years and a-half he was sent to a school at Kingston, but was so severely treated, and so sadly stinted in his food, that his health gave way, and removal was the consequence. This was shortly after his father's death, and led to his being sent to Greenwich, where, so far from having hardships to endure, he found in Dr. Charles Burney a most kind and judicious master. One day he was accused by an usher of talking during school-time, and ordered to learn the collect, epistle, and gospel, as a penitential exercise. When Dr. Burney entered the school, Buxton appealed to him for redress, and stoutly denied the charge. The usher as strongly persisted in it; but Dr. Burney said, "No! I never found that boy tell a lie, and will not disbelieve him now" Buxton describes himself as having been in boyhood of a "daring, violent, domineering temper." When this characteristic was remarked to his mother, "Never mind," she replied, "he is self-willed now; you will see it turn out well in the end." One of his schoolfellows, Mr. Twiss, states that Buxton was then, as in after-life, remarkable for the tallness of his stature, and was known among his playmates as "Elephant Buxton;" but that, so far from exhibit ing any of the talent which afterwards distinguished him, he often had his Latin lessons done for him by his friend, whose service he reciprocated by proving a most valuable ally and faithful protector when size, and strength, and hard knocks, were in requisition. Consequently, he did not make much progress in his studies; and the holidays at Earl's Colne, where his mother continued to reside, left a more enduring impression on him than the time spent at school. At home he was rather encouraged by his mother, who treated him as an equal, and led him to express his opinions without reserve, to bear himself as master of the family; and he was trained by the gamekeeper, a singular character, and full of rural knowledge, to bold and hardy habits of sportsmanship. Thus situated, he learned to think for himself, and acquired a kind of habitual decision, to which he at tributed much of his success in life. Moreover, this gamekeeper, though he could neither read nor write, had much natural good sense, shrewdness, humour, mother-wit, and a rare dexterity in placing every thing in new and striking lights. His feats as a horseman were marvellous. He taught the boys to ride, shoot, and fish; he never did anything in the absence of their mother of which she would have disapproved; and he impressed on their young minds sentiments and principles of the highest, most honourable, and most generous nature, with all the simplicity, purity, and freshness of one who had pursued his meditations among green fields, rich woods, and yellow corn. Under the auspices of this rustic worthy, whom he used to speak of as his "first tutor," Buxton, who was physically well fitted for the proper enjoyment of country amusements, speedily acquired a keen relish for hunting, shooting, and fishing. Throughout life he had a strong fancy for dogs, and took great delight in horses; the result, perhaps, of this early apprenticeship to field-sports. Negroes and partridges were, to the last, somewhat grotesquely blended in his thoughts

His mother's system of education was peculiar There was little indulgence in it, but a great deal of liberty. The boys were generally allowed to go where they would, and do anything they liked; but her authority, when exercised, was paramount and despotic. To the mother of a numerous and disorderly family, who inquired if the revolutionary principles of the day were not making way among her boys, she described her rule as "implicit obedience—unconditional submission." Her son's cha-racter was not without such touches of wilfulness as rendered strong measures now and then necessary; and in one Christmas vacation, on her return after a short absence, she was startled with the intelligence that "Master Fowell had behaved very ill, and struck his sister's governess." This most un gallant offence she resolved to punish by leaving him at school during the approaching Easter holidays. In the meantime, for some misdemeanour, two of the most disreputable boys in the school had been sentenced to undergo the same penalty; and Mrs. Buxton, feeling the dilemma in which she was thus placed, went to Greenwich on the first of the holidays, and having frankly explained her difficulty to the juvenile offender, ended by stating, that rather than have him left alone, at the risk of being contaminated by the two culprits, she was prepared to forego her intention, and allow him to come home with her other sons. His answer was a strange, mixture of hardihood and heroism —" Mother, never fear that I shall disgrace you or myself, my brothers are ready, and so is my dinner;" and the stout-hearted Quakeress left him to his fate.